


Jackson needs someone

by grimmfairy



Series: That's what friends are for [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Comforting Stiles Stilinski, Crying Jackson, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jackson Needs a Hug, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Stiles, Sad Jackson, Stiles Stilinski & Jackson Whittemore Friendship, Trans Character, Trans Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:47:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4087507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmfairy/pseuds/grimmfairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My mom's pregnant," Jackson blurted, as tears filled his eyes again. "She's finally going to have the kid she's always wanted. What do they need me for anymore now that they can have their real son or daughter or whatever running around?"</p><p>Everything clicked into place. Jackson was scared.</p><p>Scared that the only home he'd ever known, the only parents he'd ever known, were going to disappear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jackson needs someone

Stiles was concerned about Jackson. Lydia had recently broken up with him (again) but that didn't seem likely as the cause for his distress since these break-ups usually lasted only a short time. He wasn't really acting differently at school and his normal assholery was unaffected. But the tightness in his eyes, the tense way he was holding his body, it all set Stiles one edge to see a boy that was so in control of his body being so stiff. But he knew better than to ask what was wrong as it would only cause Jackson's walls to slam into place faster and thicker than ever, and his new-found understanding with him was still in the fragile early stages. If Jackson wanted to talk, Stiles hoped he would come to him on his own terms. 

It was on a Friday night that Stiles finally found the cause of Jackson's pain.

He was searching for Jackson after a particularly brutal loss to the other school's lacrosse team. The Beacon Hills players had tried their hardest, but it was obvious that Jackson was off. He charged other players and racked up numerous fouls and overshot the other players when he passed the ball at all. Finstock had eventually benched him at half-time and Jackson had sat miserably by as his teammates were overwhelmed and overcome by the other team, one that they should have easily beaten. Scott had informed Stiles after the game that Jackson was still in the locker room after being chewed out by Finstock and half of his teammates and wouldn't come out, so Stiles called his dad and told him he'd be late. 

Jackson was sitting on the bench in front of lockers staring straight ahead, looking lost and frighteningly blank. He hadn't shower yet, merely stripped off his gear and cleats to put on some sweatpants. Stiles approached slowly and gently reached out a hand and placed it on Jackson's shoulder. Jackson didn't move.

"Hey, buddy. Don't worry about it, everyone has off days," Stiles tried to keep his voice soothing, but he knew it was nothing more than a futile attempt to fill the silence. When Jackson didn't move, he sat down next to his friend and was silent. Jackson seemed to need him to be silent, and so Stiles was silent.

It was torture.

He drummed his fingers on his thighs after the first minute passed. His foot started tapping at the two and half minute mark. Finally, just as he was about to jump out of his skin, Jackson spoke.

"Stiles, am I good enough?" Jackson sounded broken.

"Good enough? For what?" Stiles rubbed Jackson's shoulder gently, trying to keep him talking. "You just had an off night tonight, that's all."

"No, not-" Jackson sighed heavily, finally turning his head to meet Stiles's eyes. The raw vulnerable look in his eyes made Stiles's chest constrict. "I mean, am I good enough? In a...general way?"

Stiles wasn't sure what Jackson meant by that, and Jackson seemed dissatisfied with his choice of words but had tried his best to convey his feelings. Jackson always seemed so sure of himself, cool and confident in his designer clothes and expensive car. But after Jackson had found out about Stiles's transgender secret, Stiles had started to look more closely at the jock. He noticed how even when Jackson was at his worst douchebaggery levels, he was always checking to make sure his friends were still there with him, that no one was actually truly hurt. He wasn't perfect, and sometimes his words hurt, but Stiles had it on good authority from Lydia that Jackson always apologized in some way whether it be dinner or a movie or (rarely) an awkward verbal apology. 

"Well, let's break that question down into its constituent parts, shall we?" Stiles began, enjoying the small quirk of Jackson's lips that made him look slightly less hopeless. "One: You're the star lacrosse player in this school and the surrounding counties. Two: You have good grades. Not perfect, but good enough to go anywhere you want after high school. Three: You have a few questionable personality traits, but you also kept my secret and helped me out when I needed it. Before we were even good friends, in fact. Four-"

"I get it, I'm awesome," Jackson's half smile dropped as quickly as it appeared at Stiles's rambling. Stiles was at a loss for what to do. Suddenly Jackson's stomach rumbled, loudly.

"I don't know about you, but my butt is going numb from sitting on this bench for so long," Stiles jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door. "Wanna go to the diner and meet the rest of the team? Grab something for the monster living in your stomach?"

Jackson shook his head, the vulnerable look bleeding back into his expression. 

"Ok, do you want to go home?" Stiles asked, and held up his hands in surrender when Jackson violently shook his head no. "Ok, ok. Do you want to come back to my place?"

Stiles's world came to a halt when Jackson's lower lip trembled. He had never, ever, seen the boy cry before. Nobody had.

"If it's not too much trouble," Jackson whispered, relief washing over his face when Stiles nodded. Stiles stood and gathered his things, hoping his smile was a I-can't-tell-you're-about-to-cry-smile. "Can I ride with you? I don't-"

"Yeah, sure. Roscoe's got the room," Stiles replied quickly, noting the desperate tinge in Jackson's voice that was pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Jackson relaxed visibly and joined his friend as they walked out of the locker room together towards the parking lot. "Seriously, your stomach sounds like it wants to eat me. You want to order a pizza when we get there?"

Jackson shrugged as they reached Stiles car and he climbed sorely into the jeep. He would just get a ride back to the school tomorrow to get the Porsche. Stiles thought maybe he was feeling better until Jackson all but slumped against the window and was completely silent.

"So..." Stiles began. "Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Not really," Jackson sighed, but his voice broke. A pregnant pause filled the air as Jackson seemed to want to say something else. "Can I ask you another question?"

"I'm an open book."

"Why...Why are you friends with me? What-I mean, why do you bother?" Stiles pulled over to the side of the road and turned in his seat to face the larger boy. "What are you doing?"

"I wasn't going to push, but I think the time for politeness and ignoring the problem until it goes away has passed. What's going on with you?" Stiles asked firmly, leaving no room for argument without sounding mean. "You're scaring me."

"I'm sorry," Jackson curled further into himself and refused to meet Stiles's eyes, but not before Stiles saw them shine with unshed tears. "You can drop me off at here and I'll walk home if-"

"Dude no, we're almost at my house, and besides," Stiles waited for Jackson to meet his eyes. "You're too pretty to be out there all alone."

Jackson smiled briefly as Stiles started the car again and started driving again. When they reached Stiles's house, his dad's cruiser was gone and there was a note of the fridge about picking up a late shift because some party had been busted for underage drinking. Stiles set about ordering a pizza that Jackson insisted on paying for and sent Jackson upstairs to shower with a quip about stinking up his car. He put Jackson's favorite movie in the dvd player and searched the pantry for the cookies he had made the night before. Jackson always complained about how fattening sweets were, but Stiles thought that tonight seemed like an exception. When Jackson made his way back downstairs, he was only in a towel.

" I don't really have anything clean to change into. Can I borrow some clothes? Please?" Jackson mumbled shyly. Now Stiles knew something was really messed up. Jackson was not shy, and never polite. Ever. And it was freaking him out. Stiles wasn't proud of how he reacted.

"Jackson seriously! What the hell is going on with you? First you're all quiet and now you're being all polite paying for pizza and acting all shy and you are NEVER shy or polite to me. What. Happened? Tell me!" Stiles immediately wished he could take the words back when Jackson recoiled from him like he had been slapped. Jackson's shoulders were hunched over and his hands clutched the towel around his waist tightly, and he was unable to bring his eyes up from the ground. And  _goddamnit_ his lip was quivering again. Stiles felt like an ass. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just...I'm worried and I want to help you and I just don't know how if you won't talk to me!"

"Can I get dressed first?" Jackson's eyes remained downcast. Stiles guided Jackson gently to his room where he sat the boy on his bed and pulled out a pair of sweatpants that were a size too big and one of his over-sized pajama t-shirts. Jackson accepted the clothes and slowly pulled them on while Stiles went downstairs to get the pizza from the deliveryman. When Stiles returned to the living room, Jackson was curled up on the sofa waiting for him.

"Before we get started, I want to get changed too. Do you mind if I, you know..." Stiles gestured to his chest area. Jackson nodded, still pointedly ignoring his friend's eyes. Stiles offered a plate to Jackson. "You should start eating. We can start the movie when I get back, ok?"

When Stiles was in his pajamas and binder-less, he walked back downstairs to find Jackson on the phone, presumably with his parents.

"-at Stiles's house. I know, I'll get the Porsche tomorrow...Yeah, we have food...No I wasn't at the party, I swear, You can ask Stiles, he's right here...I know...Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow," Jackson hung up the phone and then did the last thing Stiles ever thought or hoped he see: Jackson dissolved into tears, wrapping his arms against his chest like he was going to fly apart. Stiles rushed forward and sat next to him on the couch and eased Jackson's head slowly to rest against his own chest, now more noticeably padded. Stiles carded his fingers through Jackson's hair and tried to comfort him as two strong arms wrapped around him almost painfully tight. Garbled apologies started to spill from Jackson's lips only to be silenced.

"It's alright, it's ok to cry, don't hold back, just let it out," Stiles soothed his friend. "Everything's going to be alright."

Jackson calmed after a few minutes and shifted so he was laying lengthwise on the sofa with his head on a pillow in Stiles's lap. Stiles rubbed soothing circles on Jackson's arm and started the movie. The sounds of Die Hard filled the room and Jackson seemed absorbed in the familiar movie, not laughing or reacting but absorbed nonetheless. It took Jackson thirty minutes or so to work up the courage to admit his fear.

"My parents don't need me anymore," Jackson whispered. Stiles considered pausing the movie, but it seemed to be having an almost hypnotic effect on him, distracting him enough to let him open up. "My mother's chances of getting pregnant were one in a million, but they wanted a family. They...they  _had_ me because they had no other choice. They  _told_ me that."

"They did?" Stiles was surprised. He had seen how proud of Jackson they were. It seemed uncharacteristically cruel of them.

"Basically. They sat me down and had the 'you're adopted' talk when they told me I'm not really their kid," Jackson mumbled. He supposed it wasn't in those exact words, but it was close enough. "I'm not their first choice, my real parents died and they took pity on the lone survivor."

"They said that?"

"No," Jackson sighed, "I just..."

"What's really going on?" Stiles prodded. Jackson turned and look up at Stiles, laying on his back. "I mean, is this really about your parents? Cause let me tell you, they love you-"

"My mom's pregnant," Jackson blurted, as tears filled his eyes again. "She's finally going to have the kid she's always wanted. What do they need me for anymore now that they can have their real son or daughter or whatever running around?"

Everything clicked into place. Jackson was scared.

Scared that the only home he'd ever known, the only parents he'd ever known, were going to disappear. 

"Oh, Jacks, they love you," Stiles forced Jackson to look him in the eye again. "They do! And they should, because you're strong, and smart, and kind. Don't give me that look, I know you better than that. Someone that carries around tampons in case his female friends, or me of course, need them is not someone that is mean in their core."

"But what can I possibly offer them that their real son couldn't?" Jackson turned back on his side. "I'm good at lacrosse, for Beacon Hills. My grades are above average at best. My so-called friends treat me like a zoo exhibit, something to look at and enjoy from afar but never get too close. Hell, i made life for people like you a living Hell for years before-" Jackson sat up suddenly, almost braining Stiles in the face. "I'm just so...tired. Tired of trying to be the best at lacrosse, struggling with school, I spend hours studying just to get average grades. I can't..."

"Can't what?" Stiles asked softly. His brain randomly jumped to the fact that the pizza was untouched and getting cold. Stiles scolded his mind for wandering.

"I can't compete with their real flesh and blood. I mean, I haven't even been able to tell my dad that I love him to his face since the fourth grade," Jackson sighed. "What if..what if they kick me out? I have no family."

"They won't, Jackson. Because  _you're_  their family. They love you, and I think that deep down you know that."

"But they'll love the baby more," Jackson whispered. Stiles stilled, then reached tentatively for Jackson and pulled at him until he laid down with his head in Stiles's lap again.

"When I first started to understand why I was different, why I always felt so...wrong, I was ectatic. I wasn't alone, there were others like me trapped inside their own bodies and living a lie. I wanted to tell my parents at dinner one night what I wanted, when they suddenly started talking about how proud they were of their beautiful little girl and I realized that I wasn't who they thought I was. I wasn't a little girl that loved pink and My Little Pony and wearing dresses. I was a boy. They didn't love the real me, they loved who I tried to be," Stiles paused for breath, and Jackson curled his fingers through Stiles's to ground him. "I was terrified that they wouldn't love the real me. It took a long time, and a lot of false starts, to tell them. i begged them not to hate me, to love the real me, and to try to understand that the little girl they loved so much didn't really exist. She was like a Halloween costume."

"I think I can guess the moral of this story," Jackson commented half-heartedly. "They love the real you, and everything ended up sunshine and rainbows."

"Not at first, asshole. Let me finish," Stiles shushed him with a wry smile. "It was hard for them to wrap their heads around at first, and some hurtful things were said by everyone. But yeah, long story short, sunshine and rainbows. The moral I was trying to get through to you was this: talk to your parents. Don't hide your feelings from them, or they will eventually say things that hurt your feelings without meaning to. You are their son, and, I don't know if you've thought much about this, but..."

"But what?" Jackson nudged Stiles. 

"You're going to be a big brother," Stiles relished the look of understanding on Jackson's face. "They'll need you to teach them to be as kind, and protective, and kickass at lacrosse as their big brother. You're going to be such a good brother."

"I'm...I'm going to be a brother," Jackson said softly, a smile over taking his face. "I've always wanted to be a big brother."

"See? There you go, it's not so bad," Stiles pushed at Jackson when it became clear that the dopey smile on his face wasn't going anywhere and the dark feelings had been pushed away. "Alright big guy, I don't know about you but I'm starving so get up so I can heat up the pizza."

Jackson caught his arm as he stood.

"Thank you," Jackson's sincerity shone in his eyes. 

"That's what friends do, remember? They help each other."


End file.
